Chapter Text
I walked into the coffee shop, the door ringing a small bell at the entrance, causing a few of the patrons' heads to turn my way. I shrank a bit, not wanting the extra attention. The shop was moderately busy, which wasn’t ideal, but I would take it over packed. I ignored the stares as I approached the barista.
“A small black coffee, please.”
She looked at me hesitantly. I knew I looked like crap, but it was still annoying to see everyone around me react to it. She gave a forced smile, an “okay”, and started filling my order. Over at the cashier, I pulled out a few crumpled bills from my pocket. The guy at the register seemed relieved I could pay, at least. After getting my coffee, I sat down at a table as far to the back as I could find.
I hadn’t been there for long, nursing my drink, when I was startled out of my daze by a familiar voice, albeit one I hadn’t heard in years.
“Morgan?”
Ah, shit.
I ducked my head and tried to make myself small. How could she be here right now? Out of the millions of people in this city and thousands of coffee shops, she of all people had to walk into this shop at the very exact time that I was here, wanting nothing more than to be left alone.
Natalie. One of my oldest and closest friends, coming to sit down at my table as if nothing had changed. As if it hadn’t been destroyed all those years ago, leaving everything behind. My friends, my life, my reputation. And she thought she could just come and act like everything was ok? She must have been insane.
“...Hi.”
God, this was fucking awkward.
“How are you doing?”
Why did she feel the need to ask? It should be apparent to anyone with eyes how I was doing.
“...Could be worse.” It wasn’t a lie. I really had been in worse situations than this.
She glanced down at the backpack I had brought with me. It was dirty, torn, and I had roped a rolled up tarp to the top of it. My predicament was becoming increasingly clear to her, only making the situation more embarrassing.
I could see her sort of brace herself for something. I waited for the other shoe to drop.
“...Do you have somewhere to stay?”
I felt myself flush at the question. I stammered out,
“W-Well, I, um, I just was kind of-”
Natalie raised an eyebrow.
“...No.”
“Well then you can come over and stay at my place for a bit.”
She said it like it was nothing. Like she still trusted me knowing what I was. It scared me. Were there strings attached? What was she getting out of this? I had to remind myself that the world had changed, I wasn’t being hunted anymore, but my brain still ran laps on the old scars of worry and paranoia.
“Are you sure? Even after…”
“Are you kidding? It’s no problem for me to help out a friend.”
I was still her friend? Really? I wanted to ask her about that, but as I was about to, my body ached, reminding me of the effects of sleeping on cold concrete, in alleys and underpasses. Telling me not to pass up the chance for a nice shower and a warm bed.
Fuck it.
“Alright.”